


this is not a lullaby

by smithpepper



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Cozy feelings, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, conceivably somewhere in the canon storyline if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 03:04:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17014392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithpepper/pseuds/smithpepper
Summary: Kurapika lets down his guard around Leorio, but only for a moment.





	this is not a lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first attempt at a short one-shot story. it’s cold and dismal here and I just needed to write some Tender Leopika.

“Hey. Let me do that.”

Kurapika glances up in surprise to see Leorio standing in the doorway of the living room. He’s clutching an armful of groceries, and his dark hair is damp with rain.

“I didn’t hear you come in. Is the storm picking up?”

Kurapika is hunched in the corner of the couch with a bottle of antibiotic ointment in his lap. He’s been trying to dab it onto a cut on his scalp without much success for the last ten minutes. It’s only a small wound, unworthy of his Healing Chain power, but he doesn’t want it to get infected.

“Yeah, it’s shitty out there. I wish it would turn into snow already. All this rain makes me depressed,” Leorio says, shrugging off his raincoat and depositing the groceries on the table. He crosses the living room in three long strides and sinks onto the couch beside Kurapika with a heavy sigh. His knee brushes Kurapika’s thigh, and Kurapika shifts away from him slightly.

“I can manage. Thank you.”

“Tch. Listen, it’s my furniture, and you’re getting the medicine all over it,” Leorio scolds as he reaches out a long arm and plucks the bottle out of Kurapika’s hand. “Would it kill you to ask for help? I’m a doctor, you know. You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

“You’re still an intern,” Kurapika reminds him, and Leorio places a hand over his chest in mock outrage.

“And you’re still a jerk, aren’t you? Shoulda never let you visit.”

 _Visit is a tactful way of putting it,_ Kurapika thinks ruefully. He’d shown up unannounced at the apartment three hours ago, in need of a temporary hideout and covered in muck and blood. Leorio only yelled at him for five minutes this time before insisting that he stay for dinner.

Leorio grumbles under his breath as he parts Kurapika’s hair to reveal the wound. Kurapika controls the involuntary urge to flinch at his touch, clenching his teeth and curling his toes in his dress shoes.

_Breathe. It’s only Leorio. Not an enemy. Not a Spider._

He fixes his gaze on a patch of purple carpet and forces himself to take three deep breaths. In and out. In and out. In and out.

“Looks painful,” Leorio mutters. “How’d this happen? Do I even wanna know?”

The cut is about an inch long, a little south of his left ear. Leorio squints down through his glasses and squeezes a glob of harsh-smelling ointment onto his fingers.

“Probably not.”

A great sigh of gusty rain rattles against the windowpanes. Leorio makes a disapproving noise in his throat and begins to apply the ointment. The cut stings and itches, but Leorio’s hands are very gentle. He’s close enough that Kurapika can hear his breathing; soft inhales and exhales mingled with the patter of the rain.

“How’s the other guy looking?”

Kurapika shrugs. _Don’t think about it._

“Worse.”

“Worse than you? You look like a drowned rat. You wanna take a shower?”

“That’s no way to treat a guest. I’ll take one later.”

Leorio works in silence for a moment.

“So. Did you manage to...you know?”

“Did I manage to what?”

“You know what I mean,” Leorio says, sounding uncomfortable. His hands go still against Kurapika’s scalp. “Did you, uh, find anything?”

Kurapika sighs, looking down at his bloodstained fingernails. It had been another wild goose chase, and he doesn’t feel like explaining the whole exhausting ordeal at the moment. He says nothing. Leorio takes the hint and resumes his careful ministrations.

How long has it been since anyone touched Kurapika without trying to hurt him? He thinks suddenly of how his mother used to brush his hair before bed, and it sends a muted pang across his chest, making it hard to breathe. He shakes himself mentally. No point in going there right now.

“Kids might drop by tomorrow,” Leorio is saying presently. “I guess Killua’s got this sister he’s traveling with now.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. Thought we could go do something with them. See a movie, maybe, have lunch, go to the park if the rain lets up.”

“I see.”

“Mm. They really wanted to see you, too, so I told ‘em you’d stick around until then. You can stay, right?”

“Well, I...” Kurapika begins, chewing on a thumbnail and grimacing as the coppery taste of dried blood hits his tongue. His flight leaves at eight the next morning, but perhaps he can reschedule it. “I suppose I can stay a bit longer,” he finishes, keeping his voice nonchalant. “It’s funny. They always arrive on the mornings of my departures.”

“Funny,” Leorio agrees. He replaces the cap on the bottle of ointment and wipes his hand on his pants. “There. That should do it.”

The rain picks up, hammering against the apartment’s tiled roof. Another swell of wind makes the power flicker for a moment; they both glance up in alarm as the lamps re-light themselves and the microwave emits a mournful bleep from the kitchen.

“Damn. I better go find the candles,” Leorio mutters, but one hand is still resting in Kurapika’s hair, fingers curled in the short hairs near the nape of his neck.

A flush of heat creeps up Kurapika’s face. A part of him wants to leap off of the couch and bolt; he breathes through his nose and stays frozen in place. He reaches up and gingerly touches the greasy clump of matted hair surrounding the cut. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Do it all the time at work,” Leorio replies. His voice is papery and strange. “No big deal.”

Slowly, almost as though he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, Leorio starts combing through Kurapika’s hair with his fingers. A sparkling tingle of nerves radiates down the length of Kurapika’s spine, and his shoulders tense up to his ears.

“Sorry,” Leorio says quickly, retracting his hand, “sorry, I just, uh...”

There’s a beat of silence between them.

“Actually,” Kurapika says, so quietly that he can feel Leorio’s weight shifting on the couch cushions as he leans forward to listen, “it’s...quite nice.”

“Oh. I-if you’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Thunder rumbles in the distance. Leorio places his hand on Kurapika’s back, tracing his shoulder blades through the fabric of his white shirt.

“You’re like a rubber band ball. Relax.”

Kurapika exhales, trying to unclench the painful tension in his body.

_Breathe. Just Leorio. Not a Spider. Not an enemy. In. Out. In. Out._

“I won’t hurt you,” Leorio says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wordlessly, he begins to draw feather-light circles across Kurapika’s upper back. For the first time in two days, Kurapika closes his eyes.

Leorio presses his fingers against the strained muscles of Kurapika’s neck before returning his attention to his tangled hair, combing out one section at a time until it lays in a smooth curtain. Gradually, Kurapika lets himself lean closer until his back is almost brushing against Leorio’s chest.

He should go, he knows; he’s tired but there’s so much work to do, 14 more pairs of eyes out there in the night, lost to him across unknown miles, infinite measures of grief and rage he has yet to experience as he carries out his revenge. And every moment spent here only puts Leorio in danger. He should leave. He’s so tired.

Minutes pass. Kurapika loses track of time, lulled by the rain and Leorio’s gentle hands. He has the vague sense that a door is opening somewhere within him, and if he looks at it too closely it will vanish. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut.

An audible crack of jagged lightning flashes across the windows, and this time the power really does go out. Kurapika opens his eyes to gaze around the darkened living room, feeling his pupils dilate as he makes out the fuzzy shapes of the furniture in the shadows. A car alarm starts to shriek from somewhere down the street.

“Damn,” Leorio says hoarsely, pulling his hands away, “I guess I shoulda found the candles earlier.”

“I don’t mind,” Kurapika says. “Do you?”

“Mm. I guess not.”

The darkness makes it easier. Kurapika leans back a fraction of an inch until his back touches Leorio’s chest. Leorio’s breath catches in surprise, and he lifts an arm in slow motion until he’s holding Kurapika against him. Kurapika can feel the warmth of Leorio’s skin through his navy suit jacket. 

It wouldn’t take Senritsu’s level of hearing to catch the wild fluttering of Kurapika’s heartbeat. He briefly wonders if Leorio can hear it pounding over the sounds of the wind and the rain outside.

“It could be like this all the time, you know,” Leorio murmurs into Kurapika’s hair, and Kurapika winces.

“Leorio...”

“I mean it. You could stay here. You’re not in too deep. Not yet.”

“It’s not that simple. I have to complete my work.”

”Nobody’s making you do it, though. You could stop whenever you wanted to.” 

“Don’t,” Kurapika says, his voice brittle. Unexpected tears sting at the corners of his eyes, and he blinks them away. “Please.”

Leorio sighs, reaching out to cup Kurapika’s cheek. 

“Okay.”

“Just. Not now,” Kurapika amends, softening. “Let’s just...”

“You already know I can’t say no to you.”

That makes Kurapika laugh a little. 

“That’s not true,” he says, turning halfway so that he can bury his face in Leorio’s jacket, breathing in the familiar musty sweetness of his cologne. “You argued with me about what to make for dinner. You shot down all of my ideas.”

Leorio chuckles too, pressing a stubbly kiss against Kurapika’s temple. He wraps his arms around Kurapika and pulls him into his lap. 

“Well. For important things. I just didn’t want salad, that’s all.”

“I see.”

The rain is starting to die down; Kurapika hears it trickling through the gutters on the roof. He wonders distantly if Leorio needs to deal with the power outage and eat dinner and study and get ready for bed, but as he opens his mouth to ask, the question dies on his tongue. Leorio strokes his hair, humming low in his throat. 

Kurapika doesn’t want the moment to end. Tomorrow will come too soon, and with it the promise of more dead-end searches and desperate fights and the banal cruelty of his everyday life. But for now he’s right here, listening to the wind sighing in the trees and matching his breathing to Leorio’s as they hold each other in the darkness.

 


End file.
